#perthou

The little god’s eyes flick up-- they’re such a shade of dark, dark, dark green, so dark they could seem black. She startles easily-- ends up taking one step back, a huge one, and then her fingers, clawed at their ends, wander to grasp the hem of her shirt tightly. Her little knuckles turn white with the force of it. Her mouth opens-- she stares up in this quiet wonder of some sort, her eyebrows risen high, high, high into messy, dark hair.

          Aides blinks. The motion frees a tear from where pools hover, just, on her eyelashes; it slips silver-bright down her cheek, unnoticed.

          She reaches out to Persephone and takes her hand, bare skin on bare skin. She feels as though she’d been untouched all her previous life, shrouded in her layers and layers of protection, insulated from sensation, safe from the pain of feeling but bereft of it, too. And now she’s meant to give up the one person who has known her without her armor...

          She lifts her hand, kissing her wrist, the soft plane of her palm. She wants to answer her--wants to give her something in return--but words don’t come. They never do when she feels deeply.

          She shuts her eyes. Holding Persephone’s hand to her cheek, she lets herself unfocus; lets her feelings flow through the place where they are connected, starbursts of tenderness and pain, love in shades of purple and red and silver, adoring adoring adoring.